Trapped
by tulipsandlace
Summary: It was meant to be over, finished, golden boy returned to former glory. But Cloud was haunted, mocked by someone who didn’t – who couldn’t – exist any more, tortured by a memory he’d already destroyed. Set post-film, eventual CxS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, all characters belong to Square Enix... unfortunately...

* * *

Whispers. That was how it began.

_I will never be a memory._

Always the same place. Always the same voice. Always the same outcome. Cloud, bolt upright in bed, pupils huge, panting, shivering. Hair slick with sweat, trickling from his brow, palms cold, throat tender and dry. Always, always, always the same eyes.

This wasn't how it was meant to be. It was meant to be over, finished, golden boy returned to former glory. But Cloud was haunted, mocked by someone who didn't – who couldn't – exist any more, tortured by a memory he'd already destroyed. And now he was sick with fear, sick with fear and pain and such raw guilt. The sleepless nights he could have coped with. Tifa's constant worry, he could have coped with that too. But the guilt, the guilt threatened to overpower him, to wrench everything he'd ever loved away from him, with one cruel thrust, straight into his heart.

'Cloud?'

A cool palm on his forehead, a reassuring touch as his eyes snapped open and flickered, momentarily disorientated. Palms clenched into the bedsheets.

'You were crying out again.' A silence, as Cloud regained his breath, as his heartbeat slowed. Tifa's voice softened, and she looked into his eyes with the searching gaze that only she could produce. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Cloud shook his head, abruptly, decisively. That was the last thing he wanted to do. In one sharp, fluid movement he turned away from her, body facing the wall, away from her concerned eyes, away from the emotion he had come to despise: her pity. Then his eyes were closed once more, and Cloud felt a pressure lift from his bed as Tifa got up, a soft click as the door shut behind her. Tifa no longer slept in the same room as him. It had not been her decision, Cloud had insisted. Insisted that she should not get involved in whatever madness was happening to him.

And now Cloud was standing on an empty rooftop, in an abandoned city, as a stale wind whipped around him. An almost unnaturally blue sky; shocking the buildings below into submission. A whisper.

And now he was caught between two buildings, an alleyway of sorts. Every time, the same fear, the same gnawing anxiety, a pulsing in his body so severe that it left him breathless. Cloud waited for the inevitable.

He came, like he always did, but never quite close enough. Never close enough to touch, oh no, he wasn't the type of man – the type of memory – to revel in the threats of physical contact. Never close enough to reassure Cloud that he was an actual danger, not just proof of Cloud's insanity. More than once, Cloud had fought off the urge to cry out to him, to beg him for release, to ask what he wanted from Cloud, what he could possibly gain from this agony.

_On your knees. I want you to beg for forgiveness. Tell me what you cherish most. Give me the pleasure of taking it away._

Suddenly Cloud could take it no longer. 'What do you want from me?' he whispered, voice hoarse, hopeless. And again. 'What do you want from me?' Louder this time, more forceful in his desperation. 'Answer me!'

Still there was nothing. Cloud gazed across his bleak landscape, one hand shading his eyes from the sun's glare. The wind had subsided, there was a tepid calm in the air. Cloud exhaled, visibly relaxing. Is it over?

'I want everything.' A whisper, so sudden and intense, and then Cloud was shoved by some unseen force, hard, back against the wall of the alley, sharp bricks digging into his back. He contorted with pain, an expulsion of air. Cloud winced, clenched his fists, and then there were those eyes, again, always those eyes. Cold, so cold they were almost inhuman; no, not almost inhuman, definitely inhuman. A flicker of amusement on the pale face, ghosts of icy fingertips flickering across Cloud's cheek. And then a breath into Cloud's ear, soft, and warm, and acutely threatening. 'Everything.'

A sharp intake of breath, a jolt upwards, and Cloud was awake, pulse racing, gulping for air. _Shit._He'd felt him, this time, felt his fingertips, his breath, hot on his neck. Cloud instinctively brought a hand up to his cheek, lowering it again abruptly. The night was peaceful, the city calm outside the bedroom window. Cloud slumped back against the pillows, closed his eyes for a brief second, then thought better of it, flicking on the lamp on the bedside table and sitting up in bed again. The glow of the lamp cast shadows across the room, amber and fluid, and Cloud shivered despite himself, and drew the sheets closer around him.

_Everything._

Was this what he had meant, everything? Cloud consumed, mind, body and spirit? Were the dark shadows and the pangs of agony and the constant, constant waiting what he had meant by everything? Cloud rested his head in both hands, trying to silence himself, trying to quell this never-ending barrage of possibilities. Focused instead on action, on tactics, strategies, so defined and so safe and so _real_. That was how he had won before, right? That was how he had defeated the man he had once... idolised, right? And if he could do it once, he could do it again, surely?

Cloud sighed. He would have to talk to Tifa, some time or another, tell her what was going on. Chances are she'd put it down to guilt, some twisted sort of remorse he felt for destroying Sephiroth, blame it on a conscience Cloud wasn't sure even existed any more. He bit his lip and settled back down into the bed, eyes still focused and intent and very, very awake. A couple more hours and then the sun would rise and it would be morning again, and he'd be safe, removed from this night and every other night. The light would purify everything, strip all of the shadows from the bedroom, infiltrate the inky black and the intense green, somehow. And Cloud curled up, back to the wall, and prayed for some sort of strength.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything… -insert standard disclaimer here-

A/N: BloodRaevynn, thank you so much for reviewing :) I don't think there'll be any more quotes from the commercial translation in the next chapters, I'll admit it sounded quite stilted, but it seemed to fit where I want to go with this story... I'm thinking I start learning Japanese? But yeah, I appreciate the criticism, thanks again.

Anyway, onwards with the story.

* * *

The hours passed, and still Cloud found himself unable to sleep, unable to truly relax. He mulled the situation over with the clarity that only exhaustion can bring, lying in the darkness, waiting for the sunrise. He would think of a strategy, he would think of a way to end this, finally. _Or at least, that's what I'm telling myself_. And still, those cerulean eyes lingered in the recesses of his mind. _I want everything._ Cloud shuddered. Sephiroth had retained that ability, he noted impassively, even in death, the ability to make him deeply uneasy. The ability to affect him, to read him. To see straight through whatever exterior he chose to portray. Just a memory, just a memory, Cloud told himself, at first light, as he hauled himself out of bed. A new day.

Dressed, washed, composed, Cloud headed to the kitchen. Tifa was already there, leaning back against one of the counters, arms folded, waiting.

'We need to talk.'

'Tifa-'

'No, don't tell me everything's ok, don't lie to me-' Cloud made to interrupt her, but Tifa held up one hand, and her expression softened. 'Not even to protect me, ok, Cloud? All I know is, something's wrong, and I don't want you to have to go through it alone. Whatever's troubling you, you have to face it-'

'I-'

'-Or it'll just get worse.' She stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his forearm, voice suddenly quiet, reassuring. Her Marlene voice, Cloud thought, a sudden feeling of detachment creeping up on him. 'What did you see?'

The question stunned him. He hadn't expected Tifa to be so direct, so blunt, but then again, she did have a rather uncanny knack of getting straight to the point. _Do I tell her?_

'Cloud?'

_How could I tell her about this? About this exhaustion, this excruciation, the inevitable pain at seeing-_

'Ok, whatever, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to.' She lifted her hand off his arm, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face, almost tenderly, eyes still boring into his. 'But I'm always here, if you need me… Cloud, you can't keep on running from this, whatever it is, ok?'

She sighed, a slight shake of her head, and then made her way past Cloud, to the door.

_Tell her, Cloud. Better to have someone to share this with._

'Tifa, wait.' He turned to face her, and she hesitated. 'Tifa, how can you destroy a memory?'

She spun to face him and smiled. 'Silly, I don't think you can. Unless you're planning to give yourself amnesia, not exactly your best plan.' The gentle hand on his arm again. 'Is that what's been bothering you, what happened… what happened to Zack, what happened… before? Cloud, you couldn't have done anything, it wasn't your fault. You did the right thing, you saved us all, remember?'

Cloud exhaled, noticing the concern sparking in her voice. 'Cloud, you can't let the past make you like this. It's happened. It's gone.' And Tifa was suddenly very aware of the shadows under Cloud's eyes, of their dullness, of… resignation? 'But memories, you can't get rid of them. You just have to live with them, to accept them, to control them so they can't hurt you any more.'

'What if it's not that easy?'

'Then think of the good times, take those memories instead of the bad ones. Remember, you're the one keeping the memories alive, you're the one making yourself remember, you're the one in control.' Her expression brightened. 'And you've got all of us, right? If you need anyone to talk to…'

Cloud made his way over to the sink, poured himself a glass of water, then turned back to Tifa.

'Come on, Cloud, it's all over. We're all safe, you're back, everything's fine. And Cloud - memories can't hurt you, ok?' There was a silence between them, and Tifa smiled, content that things were sorted out. 'So everything's alright now, yeah?'

Cloud nodded, expression still unreadable, waiting for Tifa to leave the kitchen. And then she was gone, and he was alone, finally. _You're the one making yourself remember… Memories can't hurt you, ok… You're the one in control…_ Cloud raked a hand through his hair, and took a gulp of the water. As if he could ever be in control where Sephiroth was concerned.

* * *

And so it continued. Snatches of sleep, fragments of random dreams, but always, always Sephiroth. Cloud locked the bedroom door, knowing that any help from Tifa would be only useful in the morning. In the nights he was alone, well, as alone as he could possibly be; locked away with the one memory he could never truly forget. And each morning he would get out of bed a little more exhausted than the previous morning, a little more broken. He was being drained, slowly, piece by piece, the endless waiting taking its toll physically and mentally. _What are you even waiting for, Cloud?_

Sephiroth's presence in Cloud's sleep lingered, although he had only appeared, physically, that once. But it was always that whisper, that scenery, trapping Cloud in some never ending game of cat and mouse. Two weeks passed, and still Cloud had not been able to block the memory from his mind, to reclaim some semblance of normality. The shadows beneath his eyes became more pronounced. And still he waited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, as per usual (much to my disappointment).

A/N: misty200299, thanks for the review, it's much appreciated :) Seriously, I had such a boost when I read the reviews, finding out that someone actually likes what I'm writing is amazing!

* * *

The realisation that the dreams wouldn't stop, or even yield to his desperate attempt at control, came slowly to Cloud. All he knew was that something was terribly wrong. The thought frightened him; the thought that whatever was happening to him was completely out of his power, completely untameable. External things, yes, he could cope with. Holding together a smile and a routine and a ghost of the old Cloud was relatively easy, pretending that he was dealing with his problems constructively came like second nature to him. But the nights, they were the hard part; coming to terms with his complete and utter vulnerability. And the possibility of insanity seemed appealing; at least, when contrasted with the prospect of Sephiroth infiltrating his life, again.

Cloud knew he'd have to speak to Tifa again, but just as he plucked up enough courage to form the words he'd been dreading, the moment was gone; and an inane smile replaced what could have been his salvation. And the fear increased; and still Cloud came no closer to understanding. So he turned to Vincent, in sheer desperation. The person who could understand about longing, and destruction, and futility. And insanity, he would understand about insanity more than anything.

It came as a shock to Cloud when Vincent told him that he knew what was happening, a sharp pang to the stomach when Vincent told him that he'd guessed, as soon as Tifa confided in him about the dreams. A betrayal of sorts, but he could forgive her, he always could.

'Guilt is a very destructive force, Cloud, but I don't think you're losing your mind.' Those crimson eyes fixed on Cloud's face, lingered there for a while, searchingly.

'So what's happening to me?' Cloud's voice came out stronger than he'd expected, strangled almost, and Vincent's gaze intensified suddenly. Cloud looked away, suddenly very uneasy, suddenly acutely aware of what must be going through Vincent's mind. _What could have been his son._'Do you feel weaker since the dreams began?'

Vincent's question brought Cloud sharply back to reality, and he hurried to form a coherent answer. 'Weak from lack of sleep, yes, of course.'

'That's not what I meant.'

A silence, and Cloud considered his options. _Do I tell Vincent? How much does he want to know, how much does he know already?_

'Cloud?'

'Emotionally, yes. Physically as well. Something's going wrong, I can feel it. I don't know what's happening to me. I don't know _why_ it's happening to me.'

Vincent nodded, and Cloud leaned back in the armchair, grateful for the sparse comfort it provided, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him. The room was dimly lit, embers glowing in the fireplace, a few armchairs, a bookcase, a worn table. The sun had long set, the dust gathering on the windowsills. Piles of books, candlesticks, long forgotten.

'And Sephiroth, his image is growing stronger?'

'Yes.'

A shadow of amusement passed behind Vincent's eyes, and at once it all made sense. 'He's using me…' Cloud whispered, weakly, comprehension threatening to overpower him. 'What the hell am I supposed to do?'

'Manipulate the dreams. Make them your own. Get back whatever has been taken from you.' Vincent spoke steadily, quietly, rationally.

A silence. Cloud swallowed.

'Sephiroth is a threat even in death. But I know you won't underestimate him, or Jenova's influence.'

Cloud frowned. 'Aren't they the same-'

'You've done it before. I have faith in you.' Vincent stood, calm and reassuring as always, but Cloud recognised this composure now as something else, something he'd never seen before. Resignation. Some twisted form of acceptance; bitterness and pain made tangible, productive, benign.

Cloud exhaled, and stood, slowly, the crimson room shifting ever so slightly with the effort as they walked to the door.

'Goodnight, Cloud.'

And then the door clicked softly shut behind him, and Cloud was alone once more, standing in the darkness of the physical manifestation of the city in his nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Nothing owned by me, etc

A/N: Wow, reviewers, you really made me happy :) Massive thanks to scarlettHuntress, SilverTears11, snow-kitty231 & Aeriths-Rain, I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's appreciated so much. Also, I feel an apology is needed for not having updated for a while, I know it's annoying (I've read enough half-heartedly updated stories to hate these sorts of excuses...) but I do have a kind-of valid reason, the dreaded exams. They'll be over in a month though, and I'm writing the next few chapters of this whenever I get the chance, so regular updates coming very soon... Ok, enough of the whining, onwards to the story.

* * *

Cloud closed his eyes resolutely and let the darkness of his bedroom shroud him, inhaling and exhaling with calculation, trying to slow an ever-increasing heartbeat. Door locked behind him, boots off, fully-clothed, sprawled on the bed. Asserting the facts, solid and logical and tangible. A sudden confidence, given to him by Vincent's words, that solemn reassurance. Cloud knew that this was recklessness, plunging straight into Sephiroth's intentions without so much as a glean of a strategy. But this was what he knew best, this instinctive, heady intuition, this was what had saved his life countless times before. If Sephiroth intended to use him as a vessel for the formation of some remorseless new world, this recklessness would be his only option.

Cloud tightened his fingers around the weapon beside him, cold and real, a fleeting, self-derogatory thought about the stupidity of material items in the realm of dreams. But it gave him comfort, a hope. Zack's eyes, closing, the passing on of a legacy. Cloud had survived, against all of the odds, right? So he could most definitely destroy something as pathetic as a memory, right? Albeit Sephiroth's memory, but it was do-able… right?

He took a sharp intake of breath and rolled over, onto his side. Mental preparation would get him nowhere, no amount of pre-thought could help him when it came to this, regardless of how it had served him in the past. And so he willed himself to relax, willed himself to sink into oblivion. And the blackness consumed him, and it began.

* * *

The empty rooftop, once more, the abandoned city. And yet something was different, the air was thicker, more loaded. Cloud's chest tightened, a pang which had become all too familiar. He scrutinised his surroundings, analysing them with the lucidity brought with fear. A sky, almost shining, unnaturally bright, unnaturally blue. Slate skyscrapers, imposing and malevolent. A mirror image of Midgar, twisted and distorted, an apt dwelling for the man who had created it. Cloud turned slowly, surveying, forcing his body and instincts to remain alert. The silence was deafening, reverberating, and Cloud clenched his fists, feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck. There was no breeze today.

And then a presence, behind him. Cloud's breathing hitched. A shiver.

'You have changed, Cloud, since we last met.'

That voice, silky and mocking; softly, innately threatening even now, disembodied. Cloud snapped his head around, frantically trying to locate the source-

And the scene shifted around him again, a split-second of stark white, endless, a glimpse of eternity, and suddenly Cloud was standing in an untainted Nibelheim, and now a burning Nibelheim, embers and flames and the sickly scent of death overpowering. And then his whole body clenched as the scene suddenly blurred out of focus for the final time, and now he was jolted into the reactor building, room lit with a dim and acutely menacing jade glow. _This is it._

'Cloud.'

A whisper, again, and Cloud had to concentrate on not giving in to an all-consuming urge to shiver, to turn around, to run, to pinch himself and wake up, to do anything, anything but stay here.

And then hot breath, Sephiroth's breath, against Cloud's ear, directly behind him, body close enough to slice through.

'I died here first, remember.'

Cloud whipped around, all senses heightened, heartbeat crashing with its intensity. Swift steps backwards, instinctively adopting a fighting pose, hand reaching behind him for a weapon which…wasn't there? _Shit. Where is it?_ Eyes darting over his shoulder, immediate and sweeping confusion washing over him, familiar weight of the sword remaining even in its physical absence. Eyes flicking back to the man standing before him, no, not the man, Sephiroth was far too inhuman, far too changed, to ever be considered a mortal, not now. Exactly how he had been in the final battle, eyes cold and cruel and shattered, stance effortless and arrogant; broken and re-formed into something which was most definitely not human. And Cloud chastised himself with fatalistic delay, as his vulnerability became apparent._ A plan, a plan, I should have made a plan, I should have made a plan-_'Obviously not dramatically changed, I see.' A silence, and Cloud scrabbled, mentally collecting himself. _A plan, a plan, a plan- _'But there is something different. You become more powerful by the day.'

Cloud backed, away, away, away, desperately looking for a form of escape, for all heroism was irrelevant here. The need to survive this, the need to survive Sephiroth, was unrelenting. And Sephiroth stepped forward, corner of thin lips curling up, eyes glinting, voice calm and unnervingly gentle. 'Regardless, I will still break you...'

And the coldness trickled down Cloud's spine, hands shuddering with fear. The silence of expectation. _This is the end. _Sephiroth's smile intensified, and a shiver rippled across Cloud's body.

'And you will know your own destruction.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Yes, we've established that I own nothing…

A/N This is me procrastinating and trying to delay Chemistry revision, I hope it's worth it :) I know last chapter was a bit short, I'm going to be a very bad person and blame it on exams. (This chapter's the longest so far though, yay!) Also, apologies if it seems like the story was a bit slow in previous chapters. I wanted to get the development and introduction (for want of a better word) right before I launched into the main events. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it, I have a pretty good idea of where I want this plot to go.

* * *

'Cloud? Cloud, I heard shouting so I unlock-' Tifa froze, door closing gently behind her. Cloud's body, deathly pale, shuddering. 'Oh my god.'

And then Tifa was beside the bed, strobes of moonlight pooling around her. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, hands trembling with fear as she shook Cloud's limp body, desperately. His head lolled back, eyelids fluttering open. 'Cloud? Cloud!' She swore violently, under her breath, whipping out her mobile phone, dialling a number frantically.

'Vincent, you need to get here. Right now.'

His solemn voice reassured her for a moment, and then she turned back to the pallid form on the bed, and her heartbeat quickened, hands cold and clammy. She bit her lip, ignored the metallic tang and the sharp pain of broken skin, and sat beside him, clasping one shivering hand in her own. And instantly a knot formed in her stomach; a dull, unadulterated fear, and a resonating guilt. She willed her breathing to even out, her heartbeat to slow. She'd seen this coming, knew it had to culminate somehow. But he'd out on such a good façade of normalcy, one that she would defy her common sense, her intuition, to believe. She needed that security, now so much had happened, needed to believe that she could finally be Cloud's constant.

_But you have failed, obviously._ A tiny voice in the back of her mind; _you never could save him, you were always the one needing to be saved. And you were so naïve as to believe that this time would be any different._ She thought of Marlene, undisturbed and innocent in the bed, and was consumed by the need to hold the child to her, to protect her from everything, to sustain her and to shield her and to prevent this from happening ever again. She instinctively tightened her grip on Cloud's hand, and looked at his blank face, dappled by the moonlight and shadows. 'I'm sorry.' A whisper, barely audible.

'What happened?'

Tifa whipped around, then blushed, instantly embarrassed about her irrational fear. She never had got used to Vincent's stillness, the way he could move around enter and exit a room in complete silence. _Like a ghost_, the little voice reminded her.

'I don't know, I just heard shouts, and so I got into the room and…' Her voice trailed away, and she motioned to Cloud's lifeless body.

'Did you hear what he was shouting?'

Tifa was suddenly overcome by anger, at Vincent's rationality, his complete calm; those eyes, hidden and shielded and masked. Nothing would touch them, of course. She had seen him provoked, seen him rebuff any insults with a smile, and yet those eyes remained stable, that expression unreadable. Tifa took a deep breath to steady herself, gripped Cloud's fingers a little tighter again.

'No, it was muffled. When I'd unlocked the door, he was like this.'

Tifa swallowed, steeling herself.

'Vincent, this is Sephiroth, isn't it?'

Vincent turned to her slowly, and Tifa noticed shock flicker across his rigorously composed face.

'That's why he went to see you earlier on, right?'

Vincent nodded, and noted mentally never to underestimate the girl's intellect again. _Of course she would guess. She has known him since childhood. She knows him better than all of us._

Tifa sighed, softly, a small exhalation, a defeated drop of the shoulders, and turned back to Cloud.

'When he said to me about guilt, I thought something was up. I should have known then.'

She frowned, pursed her lips very slightly. 'I thought he was still mourning Zack. But then he said about the memories, and, oh god, I don't know. Everything just sort of spiralled from there. I told him memories couldn't hurt him, Vincent.' _I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. _'And then when he said he was going to speak to you today, I knew. I knew, and I didn't stop him from sleeping. I knew, and I couldn't protect him.'

Vincent noticed, with detachment, her body stiffen, tighten, and considered laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned back to him, eyes blazing, and he suddenly felt a yearning for the ability to feel such fierce emotion, again. 'What do we do now?' Her voice was low, determined, and he met her eyes levelly.

'We wait. This is something Cloud must do on his own.'

'So what, we wait until Sephiroth's drained the life out of him and then we welcome his shell of a body back into the land of the living?' She clenched Cloud's hand with anger, protectiveness surging through her. 'There has to be another way, Vincent. I'm not going to stand back and watch Cloud die.'

Vincent stepped forward, steeling himself for the onslaught, voice steady and resolute. 'You'll have to. There is no other way, Tifa. We cannot infiltrate dreams.'

A silence, a resignation. Tifa's expression softened, frustration swept away, in acceptance, and replaced with concern. 'So we wait.'

'And we trust that Cloud has the strength he needs. In the morning we will call the others, inform them of what is happening.'

Tifa nodded, and gazed back at Cloud's expressionless face, cold and ashen, hair scattered haphazardly across his forehead. And Vincent weighed up the positives and negatives of the comforting hand on the shoulder to steady her, and decided in favour of it, reaching forward, rationalising it with the thought that perhaps an ally would be advantageous in this situation.

* * *

'Do you hear them, Cloud? Do you hear their concern for you?' That silken voice again, and Sephiroth's eyes gleamed with victory. Cloud felt his back collide with uneven brick, and winced involuntarily. Sephiroth's thin lips twisted into a smile. 'You forget that this is my world.'

He stepped closer, ever closer, and Cloud was horribly aware of his vulnerability, heartbeat pounding in his chest. And then the world around the brick wall, around Cloud, morphed seamlessly into an alleyway again; smog rising, tainting the shadows grey. Cloud swallowed, and Sephiroth smiled again, predatory, closing in on Cloud. 'I control everything here.'

And then a cool hand against Cloud's cheek, and he flinched at the contact. 'Get away from me.' Cloud's voice cracked, betraying the fear that was coursing through his body. _This is how it will end._'Oh, even when trapped you remain resolved on escape.' Sephiroth closed the distance between them, another slight smirk, and his hand tilted Cloud face sideways, sharply. He bent down slightly, lips parted. 'Submit to me, Strife.' A murmur, resonating softly against Cloud's exposed neck.

And then pain, absolute pain, shooting through Cloud like a bolt of electricity. He shuddered, falling forward, eyes clenched shut. Mouth open, a silent scream for mercy.

_Yes, this is how it will end._


End file.
